Eyelashes
by KnoxMare
Summary: Wishes are powerful things. Merlin/Arthur. Slightly AU. No spoilers. Could be anywhere in timeline/is not canon AT ALL. One-shot. Established relationship. No slash, sorry.


**A/N: I got the idea for this fic about an hour ago, and I've wanted to write an angsty, depressing, selfish fic for a while, so I just went downstairs and started typing. Feel free to hate me for it.**

**XXXXXX**

Merlin sat with his back up against the headboard, chin almost touching his chest. The sunlight was hitting his eyes now, and its brightness was irritating. He couldn't be bothered to get up and fix the shutters though; he wasn't planning on moving at all if he could help it. He had several heavy objects within reach that he could throw at someone if they dared to come into the room and try to talk to him. He would even throw something at Uther if he came in; king or no king. Actually, he would throw several somethings at Uther if he had the chance. Everything was _his_ fault. He was the only reason Arthur had left so early that morning.

The tightness in Merlin's chest was almost unbearable. He so desperately wanted to cry, but his swollen eyes seemed to hold no more tears. A shuddering gasp escaped his lips, doing nothing to ease the pain in his chest. He kept going over random memories in his mind, thinking of all the little things he could have done to prevent this happening. Every scenario he came up with was worse than the last; they all had such simple solutions to the glaringly obvious things he had missed. Things like Arthur's reluctance to sleep that night. His manic pacing, and the staccato bursts of chatter that had filled the bedchamber with awkward silence even in their volume. Merlin had tried to calm him down. Offered to give him a massage, or get a muscle salve from Gaius for Arthur's still-hurting shoulder, but he had been waved off by an increasingly gruff Prince.

Going over the events of the night, and the day leading up to it, weren't helping anything. Merlin knew that. But it was all he could think about as he sat hunched over on the bed he had shared with his love. When he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that the mattress was sloping from the added weight of Arthur's body sitting on the far edge. He could see in his mind's eye how the other man's hair would catch the sunlight, and he smiled as he imagined him stretching like a cat in the warmth of its rays. But when he turned his head to catch Arthur's eye, all he saw was the wardrobe that lay beyond the bed; one door still hanging open from Arthur's last foray into its depths in search of a clean tunic to wear. Merlin should have been the one to open that wardrobe and find clothes for Arthur to wear. Then the wardrobe door would be shut now, and Arthur would be curled up in a ball next to him on the bed, languishing in the early morning light.

But that wasn't the case. And as he looked at the open wardrobe, Merlin found the tears he had been searching for, and they came with abandon. As great heaving sobs wracked his thin body, he clutched his arms around himself, trying desperately to hold onto something; anything. He threw his head back and relished in the crack of his skull against the wooden headboard. The pain cleared his mind a bit, and drew him back to the reality he was in danger of forsaking completely. As he gasped for air and tried to calm the sobs that consumed his body, he loosed one hand from the death grip he had been keeping on his own knees. He wiped carelessly at his eyes, more to clear his sight than to stop the tears from coming altogether. He held out his hand before him, looking at the droplets of salty water that wet it. Encased in one minute puddle was a single eyelash. He almost wiped the hand on his neckerchief right then, but then he remembered something Arthur had said to him about eyelashes.

They had been riding all day and had stopped for water at the river that ran through the fields and valleys of Camelot. It was a short time after Merlin had revealed his magic to Arthur, which had subsequently led to Arthur revealing his feelings for Merlin. Their relationship was strange and wonderful, and they were both reveling in its newness. Merlin had flopped down beside his sleeping horse, who Arthur had always said was just as lazy as Merlin was, and was about to take a nap when he felt Arthur's ungloved hand brush his face.

"You've got an eyelash on your cheek."

He had said. Merlin had looked at him quizzically, not understanding what he had meant. Arthur had explained about wishing on eyelashes to him, and Merlin had closed his eyes and blown the tiny hair off of Arthur's fingertip. That wish had come true.

But as Merlin stared down at the almost identical lash that lay on his fingertip, he knew that the wish he had now could never come true. He closed his eyes and let out a shuddering gasp, full of tears and shattered wishes. When he opened his eyes he felt a familiar flare of magic course through his veins, and saw that the tiny eyelash was now gone from his finger. In the same instant he also heard another gasp, this one full of pain and shock, come from his immediate right.

**THE END**

**A/N: One-shot. You get nothing else. I might write more Merlin later. But now I'm gonna TRY to go back to my very long and very neglected True Blood fic Godric of Brigantia.  
**


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